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by hannahuwu



Series: Watch The Castles Burn [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Inspired by me & ur ghost by blackbear, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sex, There's a second chapter now!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahuwu/pseuds/hannahuwu
Summary: After all, Kim Hongjoong was a famous ‘influencer’- famous for reforming a vast collection of very expensive clothes his rich boyfriend would spend money for him on, famous for his looks, his music, his many talents.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Watch The Castles Burn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982552
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hongbabey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbabey/gifts).



Seonghwa was, to say the very least, the epitome of a perfectly mannered gentleman _(“Next to Yunho,”_ Wooyoung had once said).

_“So good for me, Hwa,”_ Hongjoong had whispered as he tugged him down to eye level by his Christian Lacroix tie, eyes glinting dangerously in the dim amber glow of the entrance after they’d returned from yet another formal event. _“Such a good boy,”_ he’d smiled, pressing their lips together briefly. The control Hongjoong feigned only ever lasted in those first few minutes, maybe until they reached the foyer (by then, Hongjoong would have sagged against the fleeting touches of Seonghwa’s fingers dancing against the expanse of his skin pressing into sensitive spots).

Even when he’d have Hongjoong writhing on the dining table, plush thighs on either sides of his head, he’d keep his elbows off. And while Hongjoong found it hilarious, he’d never managed to find the words until after he’d been thoroughly wrecked, bathed in words of praise and soothing words. He’d laugh about it as they stood on the barstools by the kitchen island, his giggles echoing through the mansion.

Seonghwa was never alone, never. Not even now, when all he could hear were those phantom echoes of laughter. Hongjoong was seated right across him, one leg over the other with a hand propped against the side of his head.

“Hwa,” the shorter male called out softly. He ignored it, scrolling through all the pictures on his phone mindlessly, tapping the bin symbol above every video with the blue-haired boy as a thumbnail. Delete. Delete. No archives. Not even that one photo he’d managed to get of Jongho hoisting Mingi up in the air. “Hwa,” he tried again, voice pitched a note higher, albeit a whine. What was Seonghwa supposed to do with the thousands of the pictures? Should he send them to the other? Though that meant going through the other’s instagram, which he loathed the very idea, sighing as he leaned back in the armchair. The fire blazed in the marble hearth. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see what was left of the four Louboutins curling up against the heat, the only evidence of Hongjoong’s three favourite Chanel dresses mere shreds of charred cloth.

There were three words they’d never say to each other, not anymore.

“Why do you hate my instagram so much anyway?” He blew a stray strand of blue hair from in front of his nose. The answer was obvious, but Seonghwa was too busy trying to rid his phone of any connection to the younger. Hongjoong was known for deleting posts if they didn’t reach a certain number of likes, his feed altering constantly. Their photos were still there, being some of his most popular. After all, Kim Hongjoong was a famous ‘influencer’ - famous for reforming a vast collection of very expensive clothes his rich boyfriend _(“Domestic sugar daddy,” San had joked) would spend money for him on,_ famous for his looks, his music, his many talents. Despite being an absolute gentleman, it was difficult for Seonghwa to hold back the eye roll he’d habitually done each time the other popped up.

“Too many pictures,” he sighed, throwing the device into the wall with such force the frame on the shelf flipped over, crashing into the ground. “Fuck.” Hongjoong flinched. A new phone sounds great. A new number too, since most of their friends had blocked him. It was tragic how every relationship he’d held onto so dearly magically disappeared into thin air. Not even Yeosang spared him a second glance if they ever saw each other in the mall. “I need a drink,” he huffed, rising to his feet. Hongjoong gingerly followed him, arms behind his back.

“Why?”

It was difficult not to drink considering it was the one thing Seonghwa thought about next to the man. While he wasn’t exactly attempting to go for the entire dramatic scene, it was fair to say there were a large number of spiders in the attic they had yet to address.

It was difficult to roam these halls. Memories of them stood stark anywhere he looked, be it chasing Hongjoong while gripping a single towel or bending him over a coffee table, they were there. Seonghwa had taken all the words Hongjoong had ever said and held on intentionally, marking them within his soul, permanently embedded into his heart.

“I wish I could take it back,” he spoke finally, a crystal glass filled to the brim with whiskey in one hand. “Everything. All those summer nights,” he murmured, looking in Hongjoong’s direction. “I’ve burnt everything that belongs to you.” The shorter male only stared back. “I wish I could set you on fire.”

“But you can’t, Hwa.” He whispered. Seonghwa reached out to touch him, a tear slipping when nothing came into contact. It was so much easier to pretend Hongjoong was dead. So much easier than having to accept that he walked out one day, no note, no information, nothing, than accepting that none of their friends wanted to even look at the raven haired man.

Eventually, Seonghwa knew that he’d set fire to the one thing he loved the most. He leaned over to the very subject of his hallucinations.

"I'll burn it all down to the ground, with your ghost." 


	2. Cigarette Daydreams

Hongjoong aches when he sits up on the side of his bed in the luxurious RV he bought using Seonghwa’s credit card. In fact, it was the very last purchase he ever made with it, he thinks while he flicks the metal lighter with one hand.

_“Be careful, Star,”_ he hears. It’s way too early in the evening to be dreaming while awake. It’s what, nine?

“Shut the fuck up.” He hisses back to nobody as he makes his way over to the window to blow out the bitter smoke. It’s been like this for what, five months now? It’s not as great as he thought it would be. True, the freedom of not living anywhere was amazing, and he didn’t have to worry about packing his things, but it was cold. And not in that chilly winter way. Cold, when he’d shuffle over to the left side of the bed, hoping to be embraced. Cold, when the only thing that greeted him was the over-sized bear he’d placed to make up for the emptiness.

_“Bun!”_ Yunho had chirped when Mingi handed it over, despite it not being a bunny.

Living with Yunho and Mingi was great, truth be told. He slept between them in their king-sized bed, encased in warmth and overflowing love. Mingi tried (and failed) to cook, Yunho would let him pick his favourite movies, and they weren’t shy about wanting him to have a go at it with them either. And he had. It was great. Sure. But it wasn’t the same.

_“It hurts me Star. When you smoke,”_ the phantom voice whispers.

“I don’t fucking care.” He snarls lowly, reaching for another.

The RV that he’d gone for, a Newmar King Aire, had been furnished by the pair. They’d picked out what furniture should go in, but he’d done the job of determining where. Yay, teamwork!

Of course at the time when they were furnishing it, they weren’t planning on him using alone. Hence the matching bath robes, bath slippers, and the queen sized bed, etc etc.

But being around Mingi and Yunho also made him increasingly aware of how lonely he felt, despite being smothered in attention. He needed to get out, and he didn’t want to stay in one place, lest his friends look for him when he doesn’t want to see them. Especially after the entire fiasco. He groans. Why does his god-forsaken thoughts always return to that day? Can’t he go one week without thinking about it?

The fiasco™ being that day everything went wrong, very quickly.

Hongjoong had everything planned. He’d always be planning ahead of time, he was known for it. He had schedules of when to post, when to respond to messages, and when to drink water because lord was he dehydrated sometimes. The plan had taken a ridiculous amount of time to prepare for. But here he was, hiding behind the faux leather sofa in the centre of the house, crouched low enough that Seonghwa would definitely not see him the moment he goes through the main living room. He was wearing a dress. A shimmery, emerald dress with a high slit on either sides of his legs, and heels. Seonghwa _loved_ it when he wore heels. He’d been fucked so many times in them he knew the older man had a thing for heels. These ones were a bit on the shorter side, but they had dainty straps and made an interesting clacking noise when he walked on the marble floor. JongSang were hiding behind the mini bar, WooSan on by the rails of the open space on second floor, hidden by a white column, and YunGi were in the closet (though not closeted per se). Decorations. Champagne. A velvet box. A ring.

It was almost too perfect- too good to be true.

He’d definitely jinxed it with that thought.

Because although everything else went according to plan, Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa, this man that basically owned Hongjoong heart and soul, who had drunkenly asked to be Hongjoong’s boyfriend despite being nine months into their relationship, had said _no._

He didn’t exactly say no. He was silent, as he eyed the ring, smiled at Hongjoong sadly, and walked to his room, locking the door behind him.

When everybody jumped out to cheer, Hongjoong was a mess on the floor, tears streaking the makeup he’d so meticulously applied. Because Seonghwa had said _nothing._ Even a “No,” would’ve been better. But Seonghwa had said absolutely nothing, locking himself up in a guest room. He had full access to the cameras around the house, so he’d obviously seen when Hongjoong left.

If anybody asked if Hongjoong had truly sat by the entrance, crying for a little over an hour with three luggage bags by his side, he would deny.

If anybody asked if Hongjoong trashed their shared bedroom out of anger, he would deny. He’d deny slashing open the feather mattress, yanking down the curtains and smashing the mirror. He’d deny slicing each and every one of Seonghwa’s ridiculously overpriced suits, just wanting to get the man to come out.

Seonghwa never did.

_He’d stayed in his room, dying inside. But Hongjoong didn’t need to know that._

Hongjoong almost drops the lighter when his phone rings, interrupting his fourth cigarette. He should really silence his phone, he thinks as he reaches over to reject it.

San.

He picks it up.

_“Hyung, turn on your television. You have to see this.”_ San’s voice cracks on the other end of the line.

“Why?” He asks, making his way over to grab the Apple TV remote.

_“It’s a wedding,”_ San finally says after Hongjoong’s got the right channel on. Too much is happening on screen.

**_“I’d like to thank everyone for being here.”_** A raven-haired man says.

Because it’s a live broadcast of a wedding, but the wedding of the president’s son. “Since when has the president had a son?” Hongjoong mutters. “Wait, isn’t that-“

_“Seonghwa-hyung.”_ San finished for him.

 _“Park Seonghwa, that lying bastard,”_ San seethes. Hongjoong isn’t listening, because Seonghwa’s talking on screen.

**_“To my one star, I thank you for remaining by my side all these years. I am a coward. I didn’t have the guts to tell you how much I cared, I was afraid. I wish-“_** he clears his throat, ** _“I’m thankful you’re here today, with me. You were so beautiful that day. Green is, after all, my favourite colour.”_** The audience chuckles as Seonghwa tips a glass to the bride. Hongjoong almost growls. But when Seonghwa turns to the camera, it feels like he’s looking right at Hongjoong. ** _“I’m forever yours, Star.”_**

_“...he said his dad was dead!”_ San rambles on, oblivious to the fact that Hongjoong’s muffling a sob.

“Apparently I knew less about him than I do,” Hongjoong chuckles bitterly. “Hey San?”

_“Yes, hyung?”_

“Do you still have your metal bat from the baseball team back in college? I do.”

_“What’s up?”_

Hongjoong grins. “I think it’s time to crash a wedding.”

**Author's Note:**

> I re-read Shallow Waters then heard this song so here I am


End file.
